


Do You Permit It?

by Writingfangirlforhire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Death, Feels For Days, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, Les Amis's heaven, M/M, Sad, Singing, What Did You Expect? It's Les Miserables, all the feels, enjoltaire - Freeform, lots of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingfangirlforhire/pseuds/Writingfangirlforhire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle is done, the Barricade Boys were defeated, and Enjolras stands in the first level of the Corinth, wishing he hadn't survived the bullets so long. Wishing he could have saved HIM. Wishing he could have never started a revolution. Wishing he was dead.<br/>Grantiare just wants permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Permit It?

Enjolras stood on the first level of the Corinth, blood seeping through his clothes. His life draining through the holes in his chest.

But he didn't notice. Not for a long time.

The shooting had long since stopped. The soldiers long since gone. His friends had long since died. He could look out the window and count bodies of men on the barricade that he hadn't even known the name of. Blood of so many people flew down the streets.

It was a mistake that he was alive. 

The bullets hit him several times in several places, none of them fatal.

He should be grateful that he is still alive, he should know that he's lucky. But he keeps thinking how wrong it is. What a mistake it is that he lives. He looked over, across the bullet scarred rubble of the Corinth, at the body lying there, blood soaked.

 _“Wait! I belong to this revolution!”_ He could only remember the sudden terror in hearing that voice.

 _“I belong to this barricade!”_ The words he would have rejoiced to hear said hours before hand.

 _“Vive le Revolution! Vive le Republic!”_ Conviction that he couldn't have instilled until the moment that he wished he couldn't hear it.

 _“If you are going to kill him, I shall die as well.”_ Words he knew any of his friends would have said, but from him he dreaded them.

_Then he looked at Enjolras. “If you will permit it.”_

Every part of Enjolras had wanted to scream **“No!”** Every fiber of his being wanted to tell Grantaire to run. To live. Drink wine. Find Cosette and tell her of Marius's love.

Every bit of Enjolras wished to be back at the Musain, giving speeches about freedom while Grantaire was completely drunk at a table, laughing at him, irritating him. He wanted to see Grantaire do something. Anything. Anything, that is, but be dead.

Whether it was from the loss of blood or the loss of his friends, Enjolras was getting dizzy, his vision was getting fuzzy. He sat down on the rubble.

It was a mistake that he was alive.

Enjolras took hold of the red flag that he'd been dangling over the window with, he gazed at it sadly. The tears started and didn't stop. His body heaving with tears that he was sure would finally kill him. End his terrible pain.

“Do you hear the people sing?” A gravelly, strained voice hummed quietly, “Singing the song of angry men. It is the- ungh- music of a people who will not be slaves again.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras choked out crawling over the rubble to the bleeding man. He reached him, tears flowing down his face, but not from his pain.

“When the beating of your heart echoes the beating of the drums, there is a life about to start when- ungh- tomorrow comes,” Grantiare strained.

“Shh, shh no. Don't,” Enjolras commanded weekly, taking the red flag and wrapping it around Grantaire's wounds. Grantiare gazed up at him like he was still a god.

“So I guess you are not immortal Apollo,” Grantaire groaned. Enjolras laughed as the tears streamed down his face. “Now now Apollo,” Grantaire said, a strained, but genuine, smile on his pained face, he put his hand on Enjolras's cheek, “Don't shed a tear for a human. It will make it seem like you actually care for us lower people.”

“Don't go dying on me Grantaire, it will ruin your reputation as a stubborn man,” Enjolras gave a worthless attempt at a joke.

“Drunk, wine cask, worthless, cynical, dying, and stubborn, I'll add that to the things that describe-,” Grantaire coughed up blood and laid his head back with a groan. Enjolras immediately moved his arm under Grantaire's head. Pain blossomed with Enjolras's sob, but nothing mattered except Grantaire right now.

“Grantaire no,” Enjolras choked, “not worthless. Any of those but worthless. Don't leave me. I know not who I have left, if I have any. Even if I have others. You can not leave me, I do not permit it.” Tears streamed down Enjolras's dirty face as he stroked Grantaire's black curls.

Grantaire seemed to finally hear these last words. He sat up a bit more. “I fear I must leave you, Apollo. But not for you to fear dear Enjolras. Marius yet lives, I saw a man carry him from the barricade.”

Enjolras sobbed into Grantaire's blood filled vest, mumbling words like “I don't care.”

“I can hear them singing Enjolras,” Grantaire's eyes grew wide, tears rolled down his cheeks, “I can... I can hear Gavroche, and Courfeyrac....”

“No, please no Grantaire,” Enjolras cried, grasping each side of Grantaire's face.

“Enjolras, I am in pain. I can see them now. Please, Enjolras, please permit me go?” Grantiare said groaned, but he looked up at Enjolras attentively.

“And if I do not permit it?” Enjolras sobbed, touching Grantaire's forehead with his own. 

“I will stay, I will suffer, and I will live. If that is what my god commands," Grantiare smiled. 

“I cannot command you more pain Grantaire,” Enjolras said quietly, pulling away from Grantiare to study his glossy, but still beautiful, eyes.

“I will stay if you command. Until the doctor announces you dead I will stay,” Grantaire promised.

“I cannot.... I cannot do this on my own." A stab of fear ran through Enjolras.

“Then you force me to repress the people Apollo,” Grantaire say, sounding more exhausted than before, but his voice taunted Enjolras.

“It would be selfish of me to make you do so....” Enjolras gave a sharp, morose laugh.

“Do you permit it?”

Enjolras's tears fell even heavier as he put his bloody forehead on top of Grantaire's once more. “Yes,” he whispered.

Grantaire took a deep, rattled breath. “Do you hear the people sing?” he asked, tiredly. Enjolras's tears kept falling in a stream, he sobbed loudly against Grantaire, his own pain was causing him to feel delusional.

“When the beating of your heart, matches the beating of the drums.... there's a life about to start.... when....” Grantaire's head fell to the side and Enjolras's heaved a full, body racking, sob into Grantiare's shoulder. He moved to look at Grantaire's face, hepressed a kiss to his forehead.

His vision was blurry again he grabbed hold of the red flag and Grantaire's green vest. His sobbing slowed as he found himself in loss of breath.

He could hear drums.

_Will you join in our crusade? Who will stand by me? From beyond the barricade There's a whole new world to see Can you hear the people sing? Singing the song of angry men It's the song of a people who won't be slaves again When the beating of your heart, matches the beating of the drums There's a life about to start, when tomorrow comes._

**_“Hello Enjolras? Have a drink with me,”_ ** _Grantiare held out his hand to Enjolras, a loving smile on his face._

**Author's Note:**

> Original version is on FF, it's just as sad but not as detailed. I sorta cried when I first wrote this a while ago. I hope you enjoyed it/cried all your tears.  
> Follow me on tumblr for not as sad things!  
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/of-the-intelligent-predilection


End file.
